


By Night

by NekoAisu



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: ((loosely)), BAMF Noctis Lucis Caelum, Gift Fic, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Magic, Marriage Proposal, NYX I STG WHY ARE YOU SO HARD TO WRITE, Non-Graphic Violence, Oracle Noctis Lucis Caelum, Roleswap, the croluna is mostly bg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-30 02:14:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17215121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NekoAisu/pseuds/NekoAisu
Summary: Noctis is a direct affront to all that came before him, dark-haired and quick to anger in a way the Fleuret line has never been before, tearing down warriors with a barbed tongue when they refuse to stay abed same as he lets his magic curl and cradle all the hurts it can reach.He’s an anomaly, but so is Nyx.





	By Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skitty_titty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skitty_titty/gifts).



> FOR THE LOVELY JAY WHO HAS MY HEART AND CARES FOR MY OCS BETTER THAN I DO. TAKE THIS NYXNOCT BBY IM LOV U
> 
> ((in relation to the tags: all character death is offscreen and more referenced than seen. There are no graphic depictions thereof))

They’ve got Niflheim breathing down their neck, older Magitek units combined with the newer MT models slaughtering soldier and civilian alike with ease, but they’ve also got Noctis.

Noctis is a direct affront to all those who came before him. He’s a spitfire in every way, bedside manner lacking just enough to keep soldiers in line when they’d rather be out on the field again and prefers clothes black as pitch to the usual whites of his Oracle lineage. He stands out when he carries the flag of his home, crisp lines of Tenebrae’s crest standing out when he lets his magic illuminate it so brilliantly and, really, it’s just that that makes everyone fight impossibly harder.

They don’t care about the gods and their hate for mortals, or how they’ve put feuds aside in favour of watching them struggle to protect their homes and families. They’ve got soldiers, a militia of novice marksmen as well, and mages tearing the sky’s fury into being with chants and stances.

Nyx doesn’t think they’ll make it, still, when the Empire drops their latest and greatest weapon upon them all. He’s not even sure Lucis’s crown princess could put a dent in it with all her shimmering weapons and volatile elementalism. It’s just too  _big_ ─if something so paltry as that term can apply when the Diamond Weapon roars at them in tones of the earth and crushes their last few bastions─and every attempt of theirs to stop it nets ever more casualties.

Noctis orders a retreat, watching as they all rush past him and his encampment to pile onto transports. He releases his magic in full, then, when his troops are far from range and Nyx can see clearly what they’re up against. The buzz that’s always under his skin roars to life same as it does for those who chose to stay behind for an attempt at a stand. He feels pressure in his chest like petals furling outward, shoving out anything unnecessary to set him on fire from the inside.

He glows bright white. The darkness does not touch him.

There’s an obvious strain to this magic, how it so rapidly boosts a good dozen people’s latent ability to the bleeding edge, and Noctis is spread so thin that the ribbons of golden energy he so deftly orchestrates are translucent where they float about him when they should be opaque and glimmering.

He steps forward. His people follow.

There’s no flag to rally under, now, not with it crushed underfoot and Eos herself giving way under the Diamond Weapon’s assault. Noctis cannot shield them where projectiles hit, but he makes do with fury and desperation sharpening his healing to rival blades where it cuts deceptively deep into the armour of the beast.

He feels some of the remaining fall like candle flames─snuffed out so easily it makes him ever more terrified for his own life─but he does not back down. Instead, he pulls more from himself, pours light from his skin in effervescent pools that bubble and float about like aurora borealis. He directs them to coil and slither and  _poison_ wherever they can until he’s nearly the master of snakes rather than the Oracle at large.

Another falls and Noctis steals from everywhere he can, wringing life from the earth and the skies to turn them pallid if just to bolster himself enough to keep this mountain of a threat at bay. He prays in a choked off whisper when his power runs out.

The gods answer him in a sudden surge, blinding whiteness surging from the cracks the Weapon had punched into Eos’s skin and drowning him. It’s so much it  _burns,_ kaleidoscopic colours shredding into the last threat to their safety at the behest of a mortal given too much heart. Nyx cannot look away from where they coalesce and seep into Noctis, where his eyes glow bright like searchlights against the dust and smoke of the battlefield, and realizes that it’s gone quiet.

Battle is never  _silent._

But there’s Noctis placing his calloused, caring hands on the Weapon and it falls to oily ash with only the armour left behind to rocket towards the ground. They do not stand on propriety when he seems to shut down, gracelessly tumbling from his feet and wheezing out a triumphant breath. Crowe laughs something that sounds close to “  _insane,”_ but nothing matters when Noctis tugs him down to kiss by the lapels, smile a near thing to a smirk with how self-satisfied it is.

“What’d you think, Hero? Good enough?”

Nyx half sobs, half laughs his reply into the dirty skin above Noctis’s uniform, “Always.” He’s not sure how many times he’s told Noctis not to pull things like this, but his prince always just laughs it off and asks, jokingly,  _“Who was it that fought gods, again?”_

Crowe yanks an Ether from her Highness Lunafreya’s Armiger like it’s the most natural thing and smashes it over Noctis’s head with a cackle. “Nice job there, Highness. Next time, we should just take it up with Niflheim directly, don’tcha think?”

“So far as I know,” Noctis says between kisses, “Luna has been working on that. I think she’s looking for a Shield during negotiations. You should apply.” He gives her a mischievous grin before standing up slowly and taking stock of himself. “How many remaining?”

“Five, Highness,” says Amara, a general from Tenebrae’s militia whose command over her men is only matched by her love for lightning storms. “The others are nonrecoverable.”

Nyx winces. Noctis just sighs. “I wish I could say that it wasn’t expected,” he admits. “I’m so grateful any of us have managed to make it.”

There’s a moment where they wait for the last two to rendezvous with them and Nyx considers doing yet another rash and unforgivable thing. He mentally tallies everything else form the week.  _Eighth ain’t too bad._

“Hey, Noct,” he begins, conversational. The words stick in his throat when Noctis looks over at him, blood smeared on his cheek long dry and hair a right mess in the light of the setting sun.

“Yeah?”

Nyx resolves to be upfront with it, at the very least, and asks, “Wanna marry me? When we get back, I mean.”

Noctis seems stunned for a long second before his face bursts to flame and he mutters, “Yeah, dumbass, but it better be more romantic than this.”

Nyx laughs the rest of the walk back to their transport, moon rising at their backs.

**Author's Note:**

> Hmu on:  
> Twitter | FlamingAceKiri  
> Discord | NekoAisu#7099


End file.
